


To set a song bird free

by TheArtfulDodger



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Delphi is distraught and suicidal, Delphi needs a hug, Gen, Harry and Delphi talk a lot, Harry tries to do the right thing (again), graphic depiction of near-death starvation, just conversation, there's no real plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18423027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtfulDodger/pseuds/TheArtfulDodger
Summary: Delphi has been imprisoned in Azkaban for nearly six months and is slowly starving herself to death. Only just before the order is given for her to be force-fed, Harry shows up with some interesting news. He claims he wants her to live, not because the law says so, but rather because he genuinely cares. Or he can make sure she dies, as she wishes.





	To set a song bird free

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and decided to publish it for true-augurey, since there's so little material on TCC and Delphi specifically. Poor girl just needs some love. 
> 
> Emphasis is in bold, Parseltongue is in italics.

"I've got three kids to raise, you know."

There was no reaction. There had been no reaction whatsoever in days.

That's what they had told him was going to happen, and that's what he was getting.

Harry repositioned his body weight onto his other foot as to get a better look from behind the iron bars. Delphi had been sitting on the bench, leaning against that wall for about a week without moving a nanometer. She had not drank a sip of water, eaten a bite of bread, made any sort of sound. She just sat there, one hand supporting her head, the other lying on her side, just staring out of the slit that was her window to the outside world. Her face was not visible from his angle, only the back of her head, covered in silver hair that fell past her emaciated waist. The pink and orange of the skies outside colored the pale strands of hair as if she were some sort of transparent canvas. Even her skin was so pale and thin, you could almost make out the heavy stone of the prison walls behind her. Harry couldn't help think he was staring at a drained water color painting of some famous artist, titled _Stoic_ or maybe _Fading Away_.

"And even if I wanted to parent another child, it certainly wouldn't be you," he addressed the walls apparently.

"That's what the others say, you know. That you're forcing us to take care of you. That you're punishing us, essentially. Hermione thinks that you're sadistically enjoying the ethical dilemma you're throwing on us. We're obliged by law to keep you alive when you're making it so easy for us to just let you die. And then we'll be murderers, just like you. Hermione says that, in your mind, it means you still win, because you're the one with the power. She was going to send a Healer from Azkaban's infirmary to let you know that if you refuse drink and food for another six hours, you'll have to be restrained and force-fed.

Took the liberty to check out the court order. Pretty nasty stuff. Wouldn't want them on my kids. Shackles, needles, tubes running down your nose. Embarrassing, wouldn't it be? For a big girl like you? A girl who can fly?"

Delphi remained completely motionless. A soft breeze swept the claustrophobic little cell, and the smell of wild sea reached Harry's nostrils. This desolate island, infested by Dementors for centuries, was oddly beautiful, Harry thought. Delphini's hair was brushed to the side, somehow reminding Harry of the tattered, black veil in the Death Chamber. Her eyes were open and glassy, unblinking. She could be comatose by now due to deprivation, but Harry wasn't fooled that easily.

"But I decided to come over and let you know myself, since I had to come anyway."

He let the words hang in midair; he could almost see them being swept away by the wind, along with silver and blue hair. Then-

Delphi's head turned to face him. It was an automatic move, that of a robot. There had been no hesitation, but no hurry either. Like a door turning on its hinges. She stared at him, expressionless, and Harry inexplicably thought of Aunt Petunia and her large collection of porcelain dolls that used to scrutinize him with that dead, unblinking gaze when he was a child. Yes, Delphi certainly would have had a seat of honour on that shelf. He tried really hard to hide the triumphant smile off his own face and went on.

"In any case, I don't agree with Hermione and the others. I don't think you give a damn about anyone right now, yourself included. I think you really want to die and be done with a life that has been unreasonably cruel to you. And I don't blame you for that. You were thrown in a horrible gutter and then you managed to bury yourself even deeper. It takes incredible strength of character to survive this, and it's okay not to have what it takes. Sometimes we're dealt cards we can't handle."

This time there was no reaction, but Harry was sure he was right. He let his eyes trace the girl's face for the first time, take in her features. He had paid little attention to the pretty nurse with the blue hair, and he had been too preoccupied saving the world later, but now that he could see her in the violet light of the dying day, it was shocking that he had not made the connection of her parentage. Bellatrix' strong jaw line and plump lips were there, deeply cracked now, and so were Tom Riddle's striking cheekbones, the highest he had ever seen. Pale eyelashes and eyebrows highlighted the pinkish eyes. She was not the beauty her mother had been, nor a finely-chiseled sculpture like her father, yet she drew his gaze even more. Harry amused himself for a moment with the mysteries of biology, and how two people with jet black hair could produce such a blonde child. Then he remembered the medical report from the Healer who admitted her to prison, and the words complete albinism' sticking out in the first row- which he had skipped right away to focus on the marks of abuse on her body that were promptly listed below. Voldemort had waited half his life for his eyes to turn scarlet, and his daughter was naturally like that.

_"Coincidence, isn't it?"_

The sibilant whisper was carried throughout the cell and bounced on the wall, but Delphi's lips had remained sealed shut.

"What's a coincidence?" Harry asked, strained.

There was silence.

_"Amelanosis and albinism are more common in reptiles than other creatures."_

Harry unintentionally blinked. The girl's lips had parted a tiny bit to hiss out those words, apparently as a response to what he had been thinking, not what he had said.

"So you can still talk," he commented in English, allowing a smile this time. "That's impressive."

"Not for long," she returned the smile sharply, causing her dehydrated lips to crack. Blood leaked down her throat and started spreading on the striped prison uniform that loosely hung on her bones. She made no effort to stop the flow.

"How about English? Can you talk in English?"

_"So that your team won't think you're making a deal with the devil?"_

The smile turned into a smirk, and Harry saw in front of him, not the ghostly girl, but Tom Riddle laughing at his twelve-year-old self as the basilisk venom scorched him from inside out.

"It's polite to switch to a common language when two people talk," shrugged Harry, determined to keep the conversation going.

" _We are talking now, then?"_ Delphi mused, more to herself than Harry, as if the thought amused her. Harry noticed that only the muscles around her lips were moving, the rest of her face remaining frozen. _"It's easier like this,"_ she admitted in the end.

"That means we **are** talking," nodded Harry.

_"You said you had to come. Go on and do whatever you have to do, and then you can leave this godforsaken place."_

"Nothing to do," explained the Auror, "just had to let you know that Euphemia Rowle, your guarding, was found dead in her home yesterday evening. According to the autopsy, cause of death was arsenic poisoning. Apparently she made the mistake of storing rat poison in the kitchen and accidently used it for sugar. Tragic accident."

_"Consider me distraught,_ " Delphi hissed. 

There was no sadness in her voice, but neither was triumph. In any case, the lack of surprise convinced him that it had been Delphi who had mislabeled the jar of arsenic for her elderly guardian as a farewell gift to repay years of neglect.

It was an outrageous claim to make: arsenic stored next to food, an elderly lady who could hardly walk unassisted making it down to the kitchens to brew herself a cup of tea, and Delphi knew it. She knew that he had every reason to prosecute her and yet chose not to. There was a moment during which their agreement not to bring this up again filled the air, then it was gone and Delphi seemed as impassive as before.

"I was under the impression you like it here anyway," tried Harry. A single, pale eyebrow was cocked, as if by invisible threads. She was asking for elaboration and, unintentionally verifying his suspicions.

"Yes, you like it a lot here," explained Harry matter-of-factly. "You have a whole landing to yourself. Sure, you can use only nine square meters and practically you don't use that either, but still, I think it makes you feel very important, all that security and fuss. The view is excellent, the sea quite romantic- shackles aside, of course- and you can smell the fresh air. Not a bad place to die in at all. Maybe you even like the idea of sharing lodgings with your mother, in a disturbed sort of way. Or you're punishing your parents for daring to bring you into this world, promising you the universe, and then cruelly dying and leaving you alone.

However, I think you mainly enjoy the silence here. The peace. As in... Rest in peace. Your life has been full of turmoil, emotional and physical, and now the game is over, you don't have to try anymore. You have shut down all emotion, so you can accept death as it comes. This is your vacation. All you have to do is admire the colours of the wind, which, I'll give you that, are very pretty, and that's it. No thoughts of desperation, no thwarting of your deepest desires, no maddening 'what ifs'... I can only imagine how much those have tormented you for years for you to seek death, and a painful one at that. Dreaming and shooting for the stars can be very tiring, and its subsequent crush even more so. Now you're taking a break from anything that can emotionally and physically hurt you. You're not beaten here, no one talks to you, and my guess is that you have never heard genuinely kind words to know any different. Now you're done. It's like... nirvana."

Harry finished and waited for the young woman to absorb what he had said. Time passed, as much as it would take for him to repeat his speech, and Harry was sure Delphi was doing exactly that, mentally, because her eyes darkened and showed emotion for the first time since Hallowe'en- the same pitiful grief of that night, masked under layers of contempt.

_"Why not channel all that admirable insight into raising you own kids, who very clearly need you, and leave the children of men alone?"_ hissed Delphi and turned her attention back to the window and the sky that was quickly getting inked and sprinkled with stars.

Harry stood still for a while and thought. He did not wish to engage in a debate where he could become vulnerable himself- not just to avoid a much-needed lecture on childcare, but also because he wanted to help them all out of the dead-end that Delphini presented.

He dragged the little stool Kingsley had given him to sit on since he was not allowed a wand in close proximity to her (what if she got hold of it?) right in front of the iron bars, and carefully placed a glass of water on it. Then he moved behind it.

"Drink."

The scene was identical to what he had encountered when entering the highest floor of Azkaban: Delphi was gazing out of the window impassive, yet Harry now was sure he had her full attention.

"If you can't move, I'll help you," he said, simply.

_"Why would you want to help me?"_

The question weighed heavily in the room.

"Do you love your father?" asked Harry, in a pensive tone.

Delphi turned to face him once more. She did not respond, but, for the first time, a muscle in her left arm flexed involuntarily.

"Just answer the question," Harry said quietly. Another long silence followed, and Harry was careful to stay very still and very neutral in his expression.

"Yes."

The answer came in English. Broken and hoarse, but as clear as water.

"Your mother?"

Delphi nodded, closing her eyes first.

"Then you deserve help," concluded Harry. "If I've learnt one thing, it's that those who love and live without love deserve help."

_"I thought the original quote was about pity,"_ Delphi interrupted, taking him by surprise. He had mentioned the dream in the Forbidden Forrest during an interview, how Dumbledore had convinced him to leave the maimed Tom Riddle in limbo forever, to leave Dumbledore and peace, and come back to live in a broken world.

_"I hate pity."_

"Even the greatest philosophers have recounted their sayings. I stand by edition 2.0," Harry said easily. "When you get out of here you can give the new quote to the reporters yourself."

_"Out of here?"_ repeated Delphi dryly. _"You need a crash course in mathematics by a twenty year old, Potter, or is that the new world order, six months equals two hundred years?"_

"I believe it will do you a lot more good to be out of here than to spend your whole life behind bars. And maybe the wizarding world will benefit as well in the process."

Delphi made a weird choking sound. Her chest was contracting uncontrollably, and then Harry realised that she was actually laughing; a weird, distorted, silent laugh, far creepier than her father's Machiavellian one, maybe because there was a hint of misdirected mirth in hers.

_"Because I love my parents?"_ she managed maliciously after a whole minute of fits. _"I bet every sad murderer in this dump has a mother or a brother or a child that they care about! Every child loves their parents!"_

"Not every parent deserves that love," Harry deadpanned. "And yours certainly don't. No, don't tell me about the lullabies they sang to you as a baby. I'm sure they promised you a kingdom at your feet, the world as your oyster. I don't doubt it. And yet they went into battle, died and left you alone when they knew what would happen to their child if the worst happened to them. Death at best, your current situation at worst. Oh, your father could imagine the absolute extend of the loneliness you've experienced! The abandonment! The bitterness of being able of so much and having so little! They left you in your crib, sleeping blessedly when your world came burning down in fla-"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" shrieked Delphi, and her white skin got flushed, and she was grabbing at the bars of her cell, desperately reaching out. The next moment a switch went off and the blood was drained from her face.

" _They loved me. I know they did,"_ she whispered.

"I'm sure they did," Harry said kindly, and sat down on the wooden stool, holding the glass of water, looking the girl straight in the eye. "All mothers, or most of them anyway, love their children dearly. But she loved your father more, your mother. It's what she did. You must have read it in history books. And, I don't know about your view on this, but to me it sounds rather ugly to put a man who may or may not care about you over your baby."

Jaw locked, fists tight to the point of drawing blood, Delphi held on her prison for dear life. Her eyes seemed to reflect hell.

_"It was their battle to fight. They couldn't have stayed home cooing over an infant, as delightful as I may have been. You heard Scorpius,"_ she begged. _"You heard what he said about him. I was his Augurey, his consultant. His new symbol." Another choking sound escaped her dry throat, an effort to simply breathe this time. "He loved and respected me. How can you say...?"_

"Scorpius didn't find out much, though, did he? He only told us what he saw and what he understood. He didn't experience firsthand the relationship between you two. Who knows what was happening behind closed doors? How would have your father reacted if you disagreed with him? Would you have even been able to disagree or would you have been raised to take his word as law?

He loved you, Delphi, to the degree he could. That is, by seeing you as an extension of himself. But we're not our parents, we're not even parts of them. And it would be a shame a witch with your abilities to never be her own person simply due to a self-obsessed father. You say it was their battle to fight. Your father's, Voldemort's, yes, you're right, if he was sure I would be at the Battle of Hogwarts- and he was correct, of course. It was our battle. But in his position, I would have asked Bellatrix to stay with you. Take care of you no matter what, hide far away if I didn't come back. I'd force her, if it came to that, to stay with our child."

_"He never thought he wouldn't come back, he had no idea you had cracked his security."_

"Then he should have. As a father and an orphan himself. He had to swallow his ego and put your safety and well-being first. I don't care what he promised you when he held you for the first time, when he gave you your name. I promised my children, each of them, to keep them safe and happy to the best of my ability, preferably with me around. I thought it was the best I could hope for them. Maybe Voldemort wished you would rule next to him- it's none of my business, and, in the end, it doesn't matter anymore even though it sounds pretty impressive. Whatever it was, he failed, and so did your mother. And yet, you don't hate them. You wanted to run to your father, earn his respect and love. Perhaps you thought you could finally be a proper family, all three of you. You yearned for their protection. You still do."

A single tear fell from Delphi's eyes.

_"Yeah..."_

It was more of a moan than an actual word, but Harry heard it. "Do you know that your father killed his own father as a teenager? His name was Tom Riddle too. He abandoned his wife and unborn son. He told them he never wanted to see them again, and when he met his son, all grown up and talented, he was disdainful. Another parent who deserved no affections. Tom killed his father, didn't think twice and was even proud about it. He told me himself. How can you wish to be simply an extension of his, Delphi, when you're so different?" Delphi's boney knees rattled, and she collapsed on the bench of the cell from exhaustion. She closed her eyes and shook her head 'no'.

_"We're not so different, my father and I. We wanted the same things. We wanted a new world. I killed that boy and felt nothing. I still feel nothing. I don't care about him, his future or his family. He's just... irrelevant."_

"Which is why I wouldn't want you as my kid. Or even an acquaintance," said Harry coldly. "I'm not saying you're not in need of a full-time shrink and a good punishment. All I'm saying is that you're not evil, and therefore deserve not to be suicidal and in constant pain...

Tell me, did you always want to... well, take over the world? Is that what you always wanted to be?"

Delphi eyed him with an unusual gleam in her eyes, as if she were figuring out things. For a while she stared at her hands, that were just as dry and cracked as the rest of her body.

"I don't remember much about my life before Rodolphus Lestrange told me the truth," she confided. "I knew the Rowles were my guardians and that my parents were dead, and that it was weird to have tattoos since you can remember yourself. And I knew I was related to Salazar Slytherin because he held the only bloodline of Parselmouths in Britain. But apart from that, and a few separate memories, I don't recall my life at all. So I can't answer your question honestly."

Harry nodded, interested.

"Then you didn't figure your real parentage on your own? I would have bet a girl who learnt how to fly on her own would put two and two together..." he frowned.

"I leaernt how to fly based on my father's notebooks. The Malfoys could not decode them because they were in Parseltongue code," she admitted.

"There were no books on history of magic at the Rowles'. There weren't many books in there, period. I knew the library by heart by the time I was nine. Will you add years to my sentence if I tell you that I stole from bookstores as a child? Because I did. Lots of them. But they were all on magic, not history. I found no reason to bother with people and their works if humanity didn't care about me. And I was always locked in my rooms when there were visitors, so no unfortunate slips about having my mother's shin or my father's whatever."

She took a trembly breath and went on: "I didn't even know of Voldemort and the Wizarding Wars before Rodolphus told me. I must have looked like such an idiot. You should have seen his face. He was terrified of me, he bowed and everything. And I didn't even know what he was talking about. At first I thought he was just crazy."

Delphi shook her head in exasperation with her own ignorance and naïveté.

"And that was it," said Harry, who hadn't dared hope for such confessions but was listening carefully. The girl shrugged, her joints making a weeping noise out of lack of use.

"I figured- I mean, what would anyone have done? I'm really good at what I do! I could have-" And she broke down, hiding her face in her lap.

Harry noticed there were no tears, but she probably couldn't produce any. Perhaps Delphi hated pity, but it was all he could feel. He couldn't stay impassionate before such misery, but sympathy was beyond him- and anyone, most likely.

"Just listen to me."

It was most bizarre, but Delphi, a complete mess until then, took a couple of breaths, and composed herself in a matter of seconds. Harry was, for a moment, distracted by this, wondering if it were some sort of bipolar disorder or if she were faking it. He hazarded a guess to the first.

"Look..." Harry started again, trying to put his thoughts in order. "I can't relate to you, even though I'm an orphan too. My story is the complete opposite to yours. I was told my parents were drunks who drove their car against traffic- turns out they were heroes. It was a relief and weight at the same time, that discovery, and I really can't imagine feeling relieved if I ever found out my father was an evil dictator. But-"

_"Oh, you would. Or anyway, I did. Having a couple of evil geniuses as parents showed I was not just some narcissistic idiot who thinks she's smart. Most dangerous Dark Wizards in the world sounded far better than nameless, faceless sperm donor matched with a nameless, faceless egg donor."_

"But," Harry moved past the interruption, "I do know that life is made of shades of grey, not black and white. We often -as a matter of fact, usually- don't get what we want, or we do get things we wished most dearly for, along with those things we dread. Your family's story, your own story is... yes, you could say you're the cursed child of our times if you want. But you're alive. And you can manage a life as that cursed child. I'm not going to ask you not to love your parents. Love them from a distance, love the love they had for you, thank them for the gifts of brains and talent they gave you, and move- not on, just forward. It's all you can do, apart from sit here and starve to death."

Delphi stared at him for a good long time.

_"Are you going to tell me now that my life, cursed as it may be, is still precious and should be preserved? That your society will nurture me and I'll bloom into some smart researcher working for 'the greater good of the wizarding world'? Your wizarding world?"_ she sneered, and suddenly her previous contempt was back. She seemed to have forgotten the tears, the hysteria and the breakdown, focusing on the bitterness of being denied literally the world and the stars.

_"Well, here's what I see in your wizarding world. I see that even if you take me out of here, give me all of my mother's gold and let me invent the self-casting wand, all you're going to see is an evil bitch with Daddy issues! Nothing more, nothing less! Who could ever care about me? Forget love! Forget a real relationship! My own family shunned me away and refused to take care of me out of fear of who I would become! And now that I became- now that I am what I am, you tell me where's hope, Harry Potter! What about your precious Dumbledore and his sugary quotes about life without love being a pitiful life? I don't want a pitiful life! I want an extraordinary life! A life worth talking about! A life worth of someone like- me!"_

She stopped, breathless, mad in her monologue, consumed by her agony. She inhaled and exhaled heavily, reminding Harry strongly of Bellatrix, until she grabbed the bars of her prison again, and her cold fingers grabbed his robes' collar. She brought him close- so close he could see the tiny blue and crimson veins under her papery skin, so close he could count the vessels of her iris-less eyes.

_"Or better yet,"_ she hissed between her teeth, _"tell me if you would let your little kiddies around me, Harry Potter."_

The ends of her cracked lips twisted upwards into a smirk. The next moment she had released him: Delphi was back on her bench, and Harry on the stool, the glass of water somehow intact. Harry's hands reached for his collar immediately, fixing the fabric and delicately massaging the bruised skin- for a dying person, Delphi had a hell lot of strength. He undid his tie and put it in his pocket, and then looked the woman straight in the eye.

"I won't let my kids anywhere near you," he agreed curtly. "But you can come to me any time you need, or wish, to talk."

Harry stood up, stretched, and deposited the glass of water on the stool. "The choice is yours, I've done my duty. If you don't want to live, I'll find a way to keep the Healers away. And you'll be dead by tea time tomorrow."

He made to walk towards the door, feeling the pink eyes digging daggers in his back. Then a thought hit him, and he turned half way through to address the blonde who was back to staring at the starry night outside.

"In case you care, your father would be embarrassed if his daughter took her own life. Just so you know."

Harry had reached the steps, when a voice came from the cell: "You're doing all of this because you feel guilty for killing my father, aren't you?"

Delphi had her head pressed horizontally to the iron rods, and a truly wicked smile was illuminating her face.

"Yeah... Yeah. Now drink."

**Author's Note:**

> I may write a loose collection on Delphi's life after she leaves the prison, who knows. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
